“So it was an accident, then, or what?”
“Yes, of course, a horrendous accident. But then someone said I’d swung the sword too soon. And instead of backing me in the police investigation, my companions testified that I had swung the sword faster and harder than normal. They said that this was normally a harmless prank that put no one in danger.”
“Was that true?”
“No, it was part of the ritual to ensure that the sword remained firmly planted in the block after the strike.”
“According to my information, you blamed Bryngeir for the accident.”
“Yes. When I was over the initial shock a few days later, I was able to recall the scene. I’m sure that Bryngeir was standing behind Einar and kicked him back onto the block.”
“Weren’t you believed?”
“No, and someone even testified that Bryngeir wasn’t in the room. It was used against me to give me a heavier sentence when the verdict was reached. They said I was making false accusations. I spent five years in jail, as you undoubtedly know.”
Thorolfur nodded. “So you just came here and took the law into your own hands!”
Kjartan shook his head. “I never asked to come here. I expected to be doing other things when I accepted this summer job.”
“How did you react when you met Bryngeir here?”
“I didn’t know who the reporter was until I saw Bryngeir dead in the churchyard. It was a terrible shock for me.”
“Where were you on Sunday evening?”
“I went for a walk across the island and popped into the library on the way back. Doctor Johanna was there.”
“Did you know that she’d been the late Einar’s girlfriend?”
“I didn’t know that then, but I do now.”
“How did you first find out?”
“She told me late that night after a long conversation.”
“Did she tell you that Bryngeir had confessed to her that he had caused Einar’s death?”
“Yes.”
“How did you respond to that?”
“I was greatly relieved to hear it.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Even though I believed the accident hadn’t been my fault, it was good to hear it confirmed. Not that it could take away all those years of hell I had to go through.”
“You perhaps wanted to reap vengeance on Bryngeir?”
“I’ve been struggling to find peace with myself and start a new life. Bryngeir wasn’t supposed to come into the picture.”
“But he did come into the picture?”
“Yes. He was like a resuscitated ghost there in the churchyard. I thought I’d had a nervous breakdown when I saw him there yesterday morning.”
“Do you feel better today?”
“Yes. I went to Johanna yesterday afternoon to ask her for something to help me. She gave me some tranquilizers, and I managed to recover.”
“It was pretty handy finding a shrink on the island you could go to.” That last comment came from Lukas, who had just entered the room and joined in the interview. “But I find these coincidences a bit odd,” he continued. “A notorious boozehound of a hack arrives here from Reykjavik. Within twenty-four hours he’s pranced all over the island, creating a racket and offending people left, right, and center, and yet you two innocent lambs hadn’t the faintest idea that he was here! Isn’t that just a little bit too incredible?”
“I knew about the reporter, but I didn’t know who he was. I later came to the conclusion that he’d tried to avoid me and Johanna. I guess that’s hardly surprising.”
“Yeah, sure, that’s what he did, but then he decided to pop in to see Johanna on Sunday night,” said Lukas.
A crew member from the coast guard ship stuck his head through the door and handed Thorolfur an envelope.
“We were both in the library that night,” Kjartan continued. “So he must have found the door locked when he arrived.”
“But what if he bumped into the two of you together?” said Lukas. “With no other witnesses around, and you with a newly purchased penknife in your hands. Wouldn’t it have been tempting to even the score with that monster?”
Kjartan gave a start and groped his trouser pockets.
“You did buy a penknife in the store, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I think I’ve lost it. There’s a hole in my pocket.”
“Right. But I think the story went like this: Bryngeir went to see Johanna. He entered the doctor’s house, which was unlocked, and poked around when no one answered. Johanna was, yes, in the library chatting to you. Being the scoundrel that he was, Bryngeir, of course, took the opportunity to look around the doctor’s house, even though there was a dead body lying in there. And what do you know? He found Professor Gaston Lund’s papers, which Johanna had put aside last fall, after she’d taken the sleeping old man to Ketilsey. Something must have put Bryngeir on the right track in the Lund case, according to what witnesses say. Anyway. Then Bryngeir staggers outside and decides to walk across the churchyard when who should he meet in the middle of it but you and Johanna. And you hadn’t lost your penknife then yet, had you? So after saying good evening to him, you both pin the punk to the ground with his face pressed into the ground to smother his cries and start carving up his back and pulling his lungs out through the cuts. Or was it maybe the doctor who did that bit? Anyway, when you were done you draped him over a tombstone and went home to celebrate a job well done. You just didn’t have the good sense to look through his pockets, where you would have found the papers he’d stolen a few moments earlier.”
Kjartan answered none of this, but stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills.
“What’s that?” Thorolfur asked.
“This is the medication I got from Johanna. I think I need one. These are outrageous accusations.”
Thorolfur snatched the bottle of pills from him, read the label, and stuck it into his pocket.
“Not just yet. My colleague’s hypothesis is not improbable, but it needs to be completed somehow. I’ve just received the preliminary postmortem report, according to which Bryngeir drowned and had been dead for a long time before he was carved up.”
This time it was Lukas’s turn to be baffled. “Drowned at sea?” he asked.
“No, in freshwater,” Thorolfur answered.
“In freshwater? But are there any ponds or streams on this island?” Lukas was addressing his question to District Officer Grimur.
“No, just the swamp, but that’s almost completely dry after the long spell of warm weather we’ve had,” Grimur answered.
Thorolfur read the sheet again and then looked at Kjartan. “Our colleague in Reykjavik seems to think it’s possible that Bryngeir drowned in a bathtub, and there’s one of those in the doctor’s house, I believe. Maybe the man was dragged into the bath before he was carved up. So you must have found him in the doctor’s house and taken care of him there. Isn’t that possible?”
Kjartan seemed to have stopped listening, but his shoulders were trembling. Thorolfur pulled the bottle of pills out of his pocket and slammed it on the table in front of him.
“Here, take your pills and tell us the truth!”
Kjartan looked at Grimur. “Could I have a glass of water?”
Grimur rushed into the corridor and swiftly returned with a cup full of water.
Kjartan slipped two pills into his mouth and took a sip. Finally he said, “There is just no other truth to tell you.”
Thorolfur shook his head. “We’ve checked everyone’s movements here on Sunday night and the early hours of Monday morning. There was nothing unusual. You and Johanna, on the other hand, were up and about into the early hours and had every motive to want to see the reporter dead. You’re going to have to tell me a hell of a lot more if you want me to start believing you.”
“I didn’t go near Bryngeir,” Kjartan repeated.
“Go over the evening for me,” said Thorolfur.
“Johanna and I were at the library until the early hours of the morning, and then I walked her home and left her outside her house. It had started to rain, so I rushed home to the district officer’s house and crept up to my bedroom in the loft. I didn’t know anything about Bryngeir before Grimur sent for me in the morning.” Kjartan wiped the sweat off his brow with the palm of his hand.